


I'll Put A Spell On You

by MamaBelle



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bigotry & Prejudice, M/M, Multi, Murder, Pillow Talk, Revenge, Seduction to the Dark Side, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaBelle/pseuds/MamaBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this world, Misty Day was never born, but Akihito Takaba was, and the Devil himself took notice. AHS:Coven is in for suprise and horror when Asami is unleashed in their midst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning Of It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amelita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/gifts).



> This is my first ever fic, and so far unbeta'd. Please message me if anyone would like to edit the hot mess I produce. I got this idea after I binge watched the entire season and fell asleep while reading Loveprize, and out of the acid-trip dream, came this fic. I really hope y'all like it, and any constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you to anyone who clicks on this, and I'd like to really say thank you to Amelita Rae because you have really inspired this to actually be written and put out there on the web.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone for so long! Life has just gotten in the way, and I lost my muse. She's back now though, and I am editing the first two chapters so I can start work on the third. I'll be sure to post before March 1st, and then I will post every two weeks until the story is done. I am planning on 13 chapters in all, one for each episode of AHS: Coven. Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, and to new readers, welcome! Why don't you stop and read a spell?

For as long as Akihito could remember, he had a gift. The earliest memory he had was of a hot summer day. His mother had pushed him out of the tiny shack they called home so that she and his father could make strange noises inside alone. This happened at least once a week, so he was used to amusing himself for long periods of time. His mother was thoughtful enough to give him a small chipped china bowl that held a crust of bread and a cleaned beer bottle filled with water to tide him over until they allowed him back into the kitchen in the evening. The day was the hottest the toddler could remember, soaking through his blond hair, matting it to his skull and causing his dirty t-shirt to stick to his tiny body. Under the porch was his favorite hiding place, the dirt cool compared to the air and splintered uneven wood acting as a sunshade. The shadows didn't move with the sun, only sluggishly trailing the movement, so he never needed to move far from his resting space to keep from burning.

Towards the middle of the house, his favorite place to rest, he found a tiny corpse. The matted fur ball had a long slimy looking tail that curled apart from it. Akihito remembered wondering what it was and why it wasn’t moving. He placed his tiny little palms over the lump, and, as if on instinct, he breathed into it, his mind completely blank. The tiny boy passed out as breathe left him. When he woke up it was much later in the day, the sun nearly under the old oak tree line that made up the perimeter of Akihito’s young world. A small cinnamon colored field mouse was sitting near the little boy’s head, cleaning its little face. Akihito gave an angelic grin.

His mother’s shrill voice called him into action, “Aki! It’s time to come on in. Hurry up!” He crawled out from under the porch and toddled up the uneven stairs to his mother. She was thin and looked older than her years, poverty prematurely aging her face and greying her black hair, but when she smiled at her son, a rarity to be sure, she looked her age. “Kiki! Where’s my dinner? We gotta be well fed fer the revival tomorrow.” A deep voice boomed from behind her. Akihito’s father Daniel was a large blond construction worker who frightened his petite child with his rough gestures and loud voice.

The tiny child was pulled inside by his mother, who was so distracted she didn’t notice that her grip was bruising the pale flesh. He knew better than to cry out, however. Mama and Daddy were busy talking, so he busied himself in the corner with Mr. Buh, a brown teddy bear he had had since before he could remember, one eyed, one eared, and with most of his fur rubbed off. After a dinner of backstrap and turnip greens, he was put to bed and told, “Now you sleep tight, ya hear? We’re gonna be praising Jesus tomorrow and everyone needs to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for Our Lord!” He went right to sleep.

The next day was just as hot as before, but the old country church in which they worshipped had the local funeral home’s give away advertising fans to create a small breeze, and Kiki allowed her son to rest close to her side, his tiny head at her breast, and catch part of the breeze she was creating. 

“Only Jesus can resurrect Lazurus! You see blasphemers, necromancers, and other sinners on the devil’s box, in the news, trying to bring us to the Devil and away from Our Lord! No one but Jesus can re-gift life to the dead my Brothers and Sisters!” Pastor James’ booming voice frightened the tiny boy, who suddenly remembered what he had done the previous day. He was frightened. Jesus was everything according to everyone he’d ever been around, and he didn’t want to be a sinner. Fat, salty tears rolled down his pudgy tan cheeks, and the Pastor noticed. “Brothers and Sisters! As the Bible says, the children shall show the way! This child’s tears are how we should all react to the Devil trying to harm our Sweet Jesus!” The congregation screamed out, “Amen! Amen!” His mother and father beamed in pride that their child loved their God so much. Akihito made a promise to himself to never allow anyone to know about what he could do. Ever.

Flash forward thirteen years, and the tiny boy had grown into a petite teenager. Blonde hair was short and shaggy, slender tan body wrapped in button down shirts and repurposed women’s peasant tops and jeans and khaki pants that were usually too big for him and had to be hand tailored out of necessity and lack of funds, or rather lack of care from his parents who felt that ill fitting clothes would help their son lack pride and be less sinful. Ms. Ethel had been a great help, teaching him all she knew of the housewifely arts, sewing, cooking, cleaning, gardening, and healing himself when classmates decided they needed to "beat the weird" from him. He had never resurrected an animal in front of his parents, still terrified of being called a necromancing sinner. When he turned ten, he had taken over the weed ridden garden his mother kept so that they could hopefully have more variety in their meals. He grew tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, black eyed beans, snap peas, and even a small section for herbs, all of which were provided as seeds by the elderly Ms. Ethel. He would forage in the woods for mushrooms, but he would never hunt for meat. That being said, he would eat it if his father brought it in for food, believing in the Circle of Life. 

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the congregation was out in the field, standing and sitting on old folding chairs, watching the Pastor speak in tongues and holding a snake. Akihito held his hands aloft, taking in the spiritual energy that fairly crackled around the group when he was a small bird lying on the ground. In that moment, he couldn’t help it.  
His mother saw her small son lean down and cradle a dead bird into his palms. He was dressed all in white, hand-me-down white button down tucked into mended white trousers over old black shoes that didn’t fit quite right, being too large for his feet. She watched as he gave a sigh, and allowed the bird to fly away as he fainted gracefully to the ground. The rest of the congregation turned to him, some gasping that he was a prophet of Jesus, but Pastor Robert was silent. Kiki and Daniel shared a confused glance as they begged pardon to the Church and Daniel carried his son to the old beat up pickup and the family drove away. 

Akihito only woke when they reached home, but his parents shushed him every time he tried to speak and told him to just rest and drink his soup after he changed. He did as he was bid and put on an old threadbare t-shirt and sleep pants before going back to sleep. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he had passed out from the resurrection. He’d never done that before, other than the first time, but he didn’t let it bother him too much. He was sure no one had seen him, otherwise his parents would be at his bedside asking him what had happened, had he always been able to do this? Or was this the first time? If only he knew what was really in store for him, he would have run until he died of exhaustion.

The night was as silent and still as a tomb. Not one of Nature’s creatures stirred. Even the cicadas refused to sing. Hell was about to be loosed upon earth, and they only hoped to not be punished alongside the humans. A group of men were dragging a boy kicking and screaming to an abandoned rusted oil rig deep in the Louisiana Swamp. They tied his thin wrists together with rough twine, leaving him suspended in the air, the orange twine soon drenched in fresh blood as the boy’s struggles and gravity worked to harm him.  
Pastor Robert began throwing gasoline onto his former congregation member, screaming out condemnation of the child, “He is a witch! A Necromancer! The Devil has set him among us to test us, and we shall pass! The Lord says ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’, and we shall not!” The boy sputtered against the fumes and gas that smothered him. “It is you who shall end in flames!” He screamed out. A man, who he recognized as his own father, lit a match and threw it onto the soaked hem of his t-shirt with a righteous conviction, having already disowned the child. The boy screamed out in pain as he burned and asphyxiated from the smoke, all for a reason he could not control. 

The mob took his charred remains and threw them like trash into an alligator infested part of the river, figuring that the animals would take care of the bones and flesh that was left for them. What they didn’t count on was the devil himself, to have been watching with his sharp golden eyes glinting from the shadows.  
The men left, self-righteously proud of their actions without seeing the least bit of irony in regards to what they did and the religious doctrine they espoused. The golden eyes expanded to include a god of a man who stepped out of the shadows when the mob had left, his hair and clothes the color of the shadows he used to hide. 

He picked up the charred skeleton with the delicacy of one picking up a fragile newborn baby. The remains looked like sticks in his well muscled arms, and he glided deep into the glades, moving like a cat in the night to an abandoned one room cottage made up of knobby wood. Around the cottage trees drenched in Spanish Moss surrounded the perimeter, with a large yard and a small mud pit that bordered the left side of the small home. 

Akihito's corpse was placed deep into the mud, but before it blanketed his head, the man growled into the ruined ear, “You’re mine darling. You’ll never escape me, and I will never allow harm to come to you ever again. If anyone dares to harm you, I will make them pay, for eternity.” As Akihito had done for so many innocent creatures, the man breathed out deeply into Akihito’s face before the boy became totally submerged.

The sun rose and set before the boy awoke and rose up from the mud, gasping in a deep breath of fresh sweet air. Naked, shivering, confused, he stumbled up to the cabin’s porch, but before he could reach the stairs he was swept off his dirty feet up into unfamiliar male arms. “Hello mon Cherie. I’ve been waiting for you.” He brought him inside, and Akihito leaned back onto the strong chest, absently ashamed of his filthy body and nakedness.

The man put him down into a free-standing lion foot tub filled with steaming water that smelled like roses and mint. It soothed his sore body, and he let out a happy sigh. Then his mind caught up with the situation. He shrank deeper into the water. “Who are you?” He whispered out, taking in the sight of rippling muscles under lightly tanned skin, piercing golden eyes, and dark hair. This man looked like a model for one of Ms. Ethel's trashy novels, which didn't help Akihito from blushing even more.

“Call me Asami, Darling.” The man’s thin lips quirked up into a smirk and golden eyes narrowed. “You’ll be screaming it soon enough” Akihito shivered at the thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Miniscule Gay Bashing from a Character that is killed for being offal within a few minutes of doing so. If this could possibly trigger, please do not read. The use of the word queer was used in a derogatory manner.Please know that this is a work of fiction. I do not condone gay bashing or using derogatory language towards any person, but I grew up in the South with men similar to the two villains listed below. I do not use the word queer in my daily life, but with the despicable character below, it was the nicest thing I thought would come out of his mouth.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are all read and taken into consideration in the writing of this story.  
> Thank you!

This girl was working on his last nerve, and that was saying something considering the morning he had.

It had taken weeks for Akihito to regain his strength, all the while being cared for by the handsome man who’d taken him in. Asami was everything Akihito had ever dreamed of in a man, in the dark recesses of his mind. He seemed to always have a hand on the blonde, touching, caressing, but never harming the delicate flesh. He knew his own strength, and unlike others in the blonde's life, knew how to keep it in control. Asami was as content to hold the boy close and cuddle on the bed as he was to hold hands with the slim teen and wander the woods, looking for mushrooms or flowers to pretty up the cabin.  
On this morning, while the two were out walking the woods, Akihito felt a pull on his mind, an inherent sense of wrongness that tugged him, beckoning him closer. Asami smirked, feeling the pull as well, but unlike his little darling, he knew blood was about to be spilled in the most delicious of ways. 

“What is that?” the blonde angel asked, his voice so sweet and quiet.

“That’s the sound of innocent souls crying out for justice.” He swept his arm out for his little one to grasp onto, as courteous as a knight for his queen. “Shall we go?”  
Akihito smiled up at the dark man and mutely signaled his ascent when he gripped the offered arm. His hand was so tiny and pale on the proffered arm, it looked like a doll's rather than a humans.

The bank of the bayou they walked to was littered with beer cans and glass bottles. A shabby tent, patched many times sat forlornly to the side, and a dented radio crooned country music on a table covered in knives, ropes, and other accoutrements. None of this was out of the ordinary for a campsite, messy though it was. What made it horrific, were the gators. From every tree, a corpse was hung, some untouched, looking like a sculpture, and others with limbs and skin hacked off. Akihito dropped Asami’s arm and walked up to one that was hacked into pieces, flies buzzing around the putrid skeleton, searching for leftover meat on the bones, horrified by the cruelty of humans. A boat motor sounded in the distance, but Akihito was to lost in his own mind to realize what the sound signified.  
Two rough men stepped out of the boat, “What the hell?” The skinny one uttered, looking at the tiny blonde boy. “Don’t look like Fish and Game.” 

“Well, we’re screwed if he called ‘em. We got $80,000 worth of fines right here.” He shot a worried look to his younger companion. They didn’t have that kind of money. The younger gave him a cocky smile. He’d deal with the femme boy and get their asses out of trouble like he usually did.

“How can we help you, young man?”

“This is wrong, all wrong.” He tilted his head back up as he swayed around the camp, dark green shawl over a muted brown shirt and pants. The ensemble was completed by a set of dainty heeled leather boots. “Murder. All rot and black. This will not be forgiven.” The last statement he whispered as he stood before a large male, taken in the prime of his life. When he looked at the scruffy men, his blue eyes seemed to pierce their very souls.

The elder regained his nerve first. “What do you want, boy?”

Aki walked over to and behind them. “Why would you kill God’s innocent creatures? So they could be made into bags or shoes?” Venom dripped from his every word.

“Think the little queer is from goddamn PETA?” 

“No he ain’t from PETA.” The older man pulled a glock from his back pocket. “You should’a stayed away. You play with dead things, you’re more ‘an likely to join ‘em.”

Instead of being afraid, Aki breathed in and sighed out, “Not all dead.” Asami reappeared from the shadows to cradle him as the two men were attacked by the gators they’d murdered. The couple walked to the bank and looked at the bubbles that came from one of the men drowning when Aki felt another pull.

“Well, Well. No rest for the wicked. Do you want to follow, Kitten?” Asami smirked.

“Yes, I need to know what that feeling was.” 

Before Asami could reply, he felt a tug upon his own mind, and scowled. “I have business to attend to, but I’ll be back soon. Have fun kitten.” He kissed his little one’s plump lips before disappearing like the mist in the sunlight.

The boy shrugged and began walking. By the time he reached a nondescript brick building, he was exhausted and cursing himself, Asami, and the world. His legs felt like they were about to fall off, but the feeling tugged him towards a black car that was thankfully empty and unlocked. The backseat was so inviting that he was stretched out and dreaming before he even realized that he’d opened the door.

When he woke, it was to the frightened shrilling of a female voice and pained, male groans. It wasn’t until he had brought them back to his safe haven that he wondered what the hell he was doing. The girl, Zoe, looked frightened of the boys, like they would hurt her if she took her eyes off of them, but she also took a few sweeps around the cabin, taking in its lack of modern appliances, making judgments. Akihito took it upon himself to distract her as he soothed the raw, roughly sewn skin under his hands with the swamp’s best medicine. 

“This stuff is the shit,” he said. “Literally.” His hands were soft on the skin before him, that looked as if it had been ripped apart by a careless child and haphazardly put back together before the child could be scolded. Poor baby boy. “The swamp is filled with Spanish moss and alligator dung, together they act as a powerful healing agent, they’ll fix most any problem when mixed with a little magic from Mother Nature. It healed me after all.” He was paraphrasing what Asami had told him. He didn’t completely understand it yet, but in time he would. He was determined.

Zoe’s mouth fell open. “You’re Akihito Takaba, Cordelia told us about you, everyone thinks you’re dead, but of course you’re not. You have the power of resurgence.” Her voice gained more power, soft though it was, as she spoke.

“Power of Resurgence?” Akihito’s lips quirked into a shy smile. “Never heard it put that way. I like it!” He giggled softly, pleased to have a name other than necromancer to put to his power, despite the irritation the girl made him feel. 

Kyle groaned, and Akihito petted the stitches around his abdomen, trying to sooth him a little. 

“I need to go.” 

Akihito looked up quickly, Zoe looked frightened but resolute. She went over to Kyle’s side and he grasped her hand, seeking comfort like a toddler from his mother. “My school will be worried about me, but I don’t have anywhere to take him.”

“Leave him with me.” Akihito couldn’t believe he was saying this. Asami would not be pleased when he got home. “I’ll heal him up and find you when he’s well.”

Zoe brightened, “That would be great, let me give you my cell phone num---“ she drifted off.

“Why don’t you just write down the address of that school of yours?” He found a pen and a spare yellow tablet of paper and put them into her hands.  
When she was gone, Akihito carded his hands through the other boy’s golden hair.

“Now how are we going to explain you to Asami?”


End file.
